Hope you enjoy reading my stories. If you do enjoy these types of stories and the convenience of entertaining yourself with a few clicks, PLEASE donate to nifty.org.
The first installment of Gym Stretch started with . . .
I was close to finished stretching in my gym's free-style area, when I noticed a HOT older guy who I'd seen around campus. He shucked off his hoodie and was ready to go, starting his own stretching routine across, on the other side of the same area I was stretching in. And when I say HOT . . .
And the second ended with Jack and me in the shower after two wild fucks . . .
I hadn't realized it was quite so loud . . . or that I still had a grip on our cocks. I let go, Jack moaning a bit when I did. Then he went over to a shelf outside the shower and yanked out two huge fluffy gray towels and flung one at me. "FOOD!" he said sternly.
I reluctantly let the towel unfold and was about to start drying myself when Jack wrapped his towel around me. As he rubbed me he looked into my eyes and said, "Can I have some dessert after we eat?" and grabbed my ass.
"YOU FUCKING KNOW IT!" I said before I could even think.
Part 3 – Gym Stretch
Not for the first time since I'd followed Jack to his apartment from the gym that late afternoon I wondered WHAT THE FUCK I was doing. Sure, I tricked – I tricked a lot – well, ALL I did was trick, actually, so hooking up with a hot guy I just met at the gym wasn't the issue. And he WAS hot. And dirty, as I saw when he was stretching and purposely pushed himself farther when he saw I was watching him, far enough for me to see his balls and cock hanging out the leg of his workout shorts because he was working out commando! His build was all lean muscle and angles, a bit over six feet, furry, beautiful brown hair, and did I mention definitely a dirty sexy man? No, that I'd come to his apartment and let him fuck me mercilessly into senselessness – twice! – was NOT the problem.
What was the problem – were the problems, actually, because they are several – the problemS were that he'd busted through a couple of my barriers AND was nice to me AND, to make matters worse, had me wanting to not leave him. Usually when he was done shooting, I was done with him and dressing and heading out, or handing him his clothes to dress and GET OUT if he was at my place. But Jack, well, as he toweled me off, I frankly was having trouble thinking about how I'd get through the moment when his hands weren't all over me.
And that was just the last issue swirling on a secondary track in my fuck-scrambled brain. It started with him kissing me. I NEVER kiss when I'm tricking. I have no idea why, but I just don't. But when he kissed me, I let him . . . and I loved it, loved the way he kissed me, the way we kissed each other, wanted more and took more . . . and more.
In fact, right then Jack leaned in and kissed me softly on my lips. He moved apart from my lips, and for the – well however many time that afternoon – he put his forehead against mine. "You've got a lot going on in your head, Mads. Everything OK?" he asked.
BUSTED! "Uh, well, actually – " I stammered.
To that Jack wrapped me tightly in his arms and kissed my neck. "This," he said and stopped. I was uncomfortable by him stopping, but his arms around me were strangely comforting. Finally he nuzzled my neck and asked, "This is too much, isn't it?" and held me a little tighter.
I had already gotten my arms free of the huge fluffy bath sheet he'd wrapped around me and was holding him back. And dammit if I ever wanted to let him go. "It's not too much, Jack, but it's a lot more than I expected when you flashed me at the gym," I said, my brain giving me the assist to take it to a lighter plane.
He shoved me back a little, laughing, and he said, "It worked, didn't it? I took one look at you looking at me and thought, `Man, if I've got a shot at THAT, I'm giving it my BEST shot for sure!"
"Oh, so you pegged me as a pervy slut who'd respond immediately if you flashed your not inconsiderable junk at me?" I asked, feigning indignity as the towel slipped the rest of the way off me and exposed my cock, again hardening.
"UH," Jack said, obviously looking down at my growing excitement, "Well, I wouldn't have put it that way, exactly. I looked at you and said to myself, "DAMN, I want him sweaty and moaning because I'm balls-deep in him."
My breath caught at that . . . because that's basically exactly what I'd hoped he was thinking when he flashed me . . . and because it was so inadequate to describe the heights of ecstasy we'd shared twice already. Not counting the attraction and the draw and the interaction and the intimacy between us, both when we were fucking and before, between and after. Like now, for instance. And –
Jack broke into my rampant thoughts. "At least now your deep thoughts are making you glow, not glower."
"I wasn't glowering!" I snapped. And when Jack looked a little stunned at the force of my retort I added, "Was I? Really?"
Jack took the other towel from me and started toweling himself off. DUH, he was standing there this whole time, drying me, making me feel fucking AWESOME, and I was wrapped up in my own head while he was probably catching pneumonia! OK, it wasn't cold at all in the bathroom – unlike the bedroom, which was cool enough that we didn't drown in sweat during our over-heated sexcapades – but still. I snatched the huge towel from him and wrapped him in it and started drying him, thoroughly enjoying the feel of him . . . again.
I looked up from the attention I'd been paying to rubbing and dabbing him and saw this his eyes were closed and his face had a beautiful smile on it. And I melted . . . again. Not only was Jack a damn handsome man, but right then he was MY man!
OH FUCK, there I go. First, the kissing. Then there was this feeling of wanting Jack to possess me at every level, something I never felt with a trick, and hadn't felt with many men I had tried having relationships with. And then there was the fact that I not only wasn't rushing to leave – no, I didn't want to leave, I wanted to STAY! Add to that the fact that my previously well-ordered reality had NEVER had any dependency on physical contact with a man after he was done blasting his seed, yet with Jack I CRAVED being in physical contact with him.
"You're back there again." I started at his sudden observation. He had this uncanny knack of reading me. I'm sure I looked more like a deer in the headlights than a very well-fucked slut right at that moment. I bent down and put my effort into drying Jack's legs and his incredible bubble butt and then his amazing cock and furry huge low-hangers.
When I had no more of him to dry, he was just looking at me. I felt uncomfortable, a little guilty. And right when that was about to spill over into anger – because really, I DO NOT do this whole "intimate" thing! – Jack put his hand on the side of my face, his warm palm melting me. "Mads, if you want to talk to me, I want to talk to you. If not, I only ask that you tell me if any of this wasn't what you wanted."
He sort of swallowed when he finished, and I'd thought he was going to say something else. When he didn't, I started to say something, but he put his thumb gently over my mouth. It felt as intimate to me as when he'd pressed his lips against mine. "Because, this wasn't what I expected, Mads. It was far more. It was amazing, actually," he continued, his face now beaming. "It was fucking incredible!" he said forcefully, his eyes boring into mine. "And, frankly, I think we sparked something more. At least I hope we did."
I took a breath to say something – though I had absolutely no idea what it was going to be – but that beautiful thumb that had felt so goddamn good before was there again. "Just let me say this, OK?" he asked, and I kissed his thumb in response. SHIT I was a goner, wasn't I? His grin at my kiss made me flush. Yup, goner! "So I feel like we sort of stumbled into the deep end without our swim gear, and I'd like us to . . . well, I don't know where to go with that analogy, so I'll just tell you I'd like to talk about it, and I think you have some of the same on your mind and would love it if you'd talk to me about it."
I turned my head and kissed his big warm palm. "I tend to talk a lot over a meal," I said, and as I did I rubbed my face against his palm, which caused him to caress my face in a way that felt like exactly what I needed. "And I make a lot more sense than the trash talk that comes out of my mouth when I'm fucking," I added cheekily. THAT was me! But . . . this was all me, both these feelings AND the cheeky slut.
Jack laughed with delight at my quip and threw the towels aside. I momentarily cringed as my eyes followed the towels onto the floor of the vast shower space. "Oh, so you're a neat freak, a sexually amazing neat freak?" he asked, laughing.
"I, uh, well – " and he made no attempt to help me, just waited. "Yeah, I kind of am," I said, stooping to pick up the towels.
Jack slapped my ass playfully, which got an unnecessarily loud yelp from me. Then he rubbed my ass where he'd slapped it. "I can work within those parameters."
It sounded so right that he'd said he was fine with what obviously to him was an idiosyncrasy of mine. At the same time that secondary track in my head shuddered and asked Mads, what the FUCK are you doing?
Jack walked out of the shower area and waited as I hung the broad bath sheets on the hooks that seemed to be the place to put them. Looking at him standing there naked I admired him for a minute, and my desires smoldered again, threatening to ignite. DAMN, his body was so fucking HOT, and he was so handsome!
Again he was in my head. "C'mon," he said, putting out his hand. "Food first, then I'll pose for you all you want. That is, if you will for me," he said with a smirk.
I took his hand and thought it was going to be awkward walking back to the bedroom holding hands, but instead he pulled me to him and kissed me quickly. Then he asked, "I have no interest in putting on clothes. What about you?"
"Um, if it wasn't for it being a little cool out there when we were there before," I started, but what I really wanted to say was that if me staying naked was the price I had to pay for having Jack stay naked so I could ogle him, then I'd become a nudist there and then.
"Then it's settled," Jack interjected. "I hit the control to pump the heat up a bit when we came in here after you'd commented on it being cool in the bedroom on the off chance that you'd be staying a bit."
"I like a man who thinks of everything," I said, and I walked past him toward the closet we'd come through thinking, Mads, you've gotten yourself into something here!
It was warm in the rest of Jack's apartment, comfortably so despite being butt naked. I sat on a leather stool – Jack said, "Just be comfortable, don't think about it," when I'd hesitated to sit on it naked – at a vast green-amber granite island while Jack, amazingly, put together a feast. Of course, Jack's kitchen was worthy of Gordon Ramsey, might even awe Gordon, as magnificent as it was. Jack grilled vegetables on a down-draft grill in the midst of an eight-burner stove, the vegetables having come from one of two huge stand-up four feet wide refrigerators or one was a refrigerator and the other was a freezer and washed the veggies in a sink in his island that was bigger than my only sink in my kitchen. When the veggies were well along, he put two chicken breasts he'd taken out with the veggies and had been marinating in something he whipped up so fast I didn't really catch all the ingredients. AND he washed and tossed a salad with a light-looking vinaigrette that he, of course, mixed up himself.
To say I was impressed would be a vast understatement. I was actually quite intimidated. And it wasn't only the kitchen and his skills in said culinary castle. His loft apartment, what I'd seen of it when I took a better look on our way from the shower, was truly amazing. It was vast, beautifully furnished and decorated place – very masculine, but clearly expensively appointed. It was a bit like something I'd imagine an elegant hotel suite or some billionaire's pied a terre would be. I'd asked him about it, and he graciously accepted the compliment, but he said he couldn't take credit for it other than to have told a decorator what he liked.
Jack had filled the conversation while he busied about the kitchen with more questions about me than I could get in about him. He knew two of the Trustees, my once-removed bosses at the university where I worked, one of whom is somewhat of a mentor to me, and by the manner of Jack's reference to him he clearly holds him in very high esteem as well. I didn't go into detail about the reasons for my choice to depart from Chicago when I'd accepted a head-hunter's solicitation for a job in another city and then proceeded to look at many opportunities, the one I chose bringing me to Providence, but I talked more to Jack, easily, than even talked about my job search during and since with my close friends. He was easy to talk to . . . although his handsome face and beautiful body – and I did find myself often distracted by the sensuous ripple and roll of his muscles as he moved – were quite enough to hold my attention enrapt.
When Jack served up dinner – on very expensive-looking china – and put it down in front of me and laid his place next to mine at the counter he also, without asking, poured water from a chilled bottle for both of us. I don't know why that seemed so intimate, him knowing exactly what I'd choose to drink. Not beer, not wine, not even an offer, just an assumption – correct – of what I'd want.
As he was sitting down, I asked, "Oh, could I have another napkin?" Jack looked confused, as he'd put out two linen napkins with the silverware he passed across the counter earlier. "I, uh, used it already," I said, and I guiltily. He looked at me quizzically, but he turned and took another from the drawer and came back around and handed it to me. I felt too guilty and finally lifted my buttcheek and gestured down. I was sitting on the napkin. I'd snuck it there after I'd sat for a while and realized that Jack's previously-injected spunkloads were likely oozing out of my sore and loosened asshole.
"Uh, OK," Jack said, looking back up at me with a bemused smile. A bemused smile which made me miss a breath, actually. SHIT! There I go again!
"There's more, I'm afraid," I said, looking away.
"OK," he said with a chuckle.
I got up, took the napkin, which did indeed have a rather large wet spot, away and showed him the wet spot on the leather underneath. "I didn't realize until it was too late, and then I was embarrassed to say it and kept thinking what could I do about it, how would I clean cum off leather, and then we were talking and I was so distracted by enjoying our conversation, and—"
Jack cut me off with his hand on my lips. "My GOD, Mads. Do you have any fucking idea how—"
"I know, I know, these things are probably some rare leather that can't be replaced, and I—"
And then, as he pushed his hand against my lips again, more firmly, I realized his look boring into my eyes was the same one I'd seen earlier when he launched himself at me and into me. I looked down and his big beautiful cock, which had been intriguingly swinging about as he moved around the kitchen, was if not fully hard, close enough, and there was already a drop of precum at the tip.
I inhaled deeply against his hand, which had stayed at my lips when I looked down, and then I did the only thing I could do and reached down and took the now larger glob of precum off his cockhead with my fingers and brought it up. As if we'd choreographed it, my fingers came to my lips as Jack pulled his hand away, and I rather theatrically extended my tongue as far as I could out of my mouth and swiped it across Jack's clear cock-goo on my fingertips.
"FUCK DINNER!" Jack exclaimed through a deep intake of breath, and then he launched himself on me, almost knocking me out of the stool. He clamped his lips on mine and wrapped his arms around me, knocking my plate roughly away with his elbow, though neither of us reacted to the clatter. I was clawing at him, groping his ass, pulling him closer, and grabbing his cock as our teeth knocked together for the force of the kiss.
Somewhere in Jack's fierce growls as he kissed me he said, "I'm going to refill you!" and my entire body reacted to the promise. Before I knew what happened, I'd been turned around roughly and had two fingers inside me as I was pushed forward over the counter. I saw Jack's other arm reach over to his butter plate and fumble the big cube of butter he'd put there for his roll into his hand as the roll went flying off the plate. And then I felt his hand behind me and in me, smearing the soft now-melting butter in me rather urgently, without any consideration for my already battered hole.
The next thing I felt was his fingers leaving me as roughly as he'd shoved them in me, and then HE was in me – roughly, fully, and my shout was far more of pleasure and rightness with things than with the searing pain and sting of him entering me. But Jack was fucking me again, right there, right then, because he wanted, he NEEDED my ass then and there, and GOD, I needed him to need my ass just as much.
Jack was holding me tight by my waist as he SLAMMED into me HARD and FAST, and he was shouting and yelling a continuous stream of expletives and exclamations. And then he reached over my right shoulder with his arm, his forearm coming down across my chest and pulling me up and back hard against him and his rutting into me became even harder and faster as I felt his teeth on the back of my shoulder.
"AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" I exclaimed as a new pain was introduced into the pain/pleasure equation of his savage fucking of me.
"Can't. Get. Enough. Of. YOU!" he exclaimed and then bit the back of my neck and sucked on it.
My entire body was in flames, from my toes to the ends of my rather short hair and everything in between. With this position, particular explosive force was building in my nuts because Jack's monster cock was slamming my prostate and roughly rubbing against it as it passed on in and then out again, knocking it with the huge flange on his engorged head just before he SLAMMED it again. "OH GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDD, JACK!" I shouted. "YOU'RE GONNA – YOU'VE GOT ME – "OH GODDDDDDDDDDDDDD!" And then just like that my entire body was spasming against his thrusts as my balls exploded and the force of it rippled through me until I completely lost myself as I felt my cock filling with my first blast traveling up through it.
I began to see again, something other than the blasts in my brain, and felt Jack against me from behind, his panting hard against me, like my own, his hot gasping breathes by my left ear and his chin on my left shoulder. His arms were clamped around me, his right still over my shoulder at his elbow, his forearm fully clamping me to him, and his left arm around my waist, quivering over my abs. "Jesus," I said quietly.
"I'm, uh, well sorry for just jumping you like that," he said, close to my ear still and kissed me on my neck. And then he let his hold on me loose and pulled himself slowly out of me.
"OH HOLY FUCK!" I shouted.
"Can I kiss it and make it better?" Jack asked, still behind me, but his tone was breathy.
I braced my hands on the counter to keep from collapsing from my knees going weak at the thought of him still being excited, still being excited by me, by his need for me. "It's pretty clear you can do whatever you want to me, Jack," I said in a husky voice, my own need choking me.
I felt him gently pull my cheeks apart. It was like a new pain, but I held my exclamation . . . at least until I felt his tongue on my freshly-fucked hole, and then I let slip a long "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh mmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy Godddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd!"
Jack lapped at my hole tentatively first, then, when I pushed back into him – I couldn't help myself despite the burning I was feeling – he went to work lapping and slurping and gently running his tongue across my swollen ring, all of it over and over and moaning and growling all the while. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," over and over, and each time it stoked my fire inside.
My cock was raging hard again, and my balls felt like they were in a vise they were aching so much from cumming three times in the past couple of hours. I reached down absently and felt my own precum and casually thought, on a separate track in my brain, how incredible it was I had any left.
Jack grabbed my cock out of my hand roughly and squeezed it, a muffled "MINE!" coming from him into my ass-crack. And then his hand was back again, on my ass cheek, holding me open for his face to suck and lick and lap my hole. "MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," again and then all of a sudden I felt my body ignite for real, and just like that, after he'd fucked three loads out of me, his tongue in my ass – more accurately his aggressive desire for me – had me exploding again.
"I'MMMMMMMMMM FUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" I yelled as my nuts felt like the strongest man on earth was gripping them with all his might, a pain so incredible as it accompanied my exploding climax that I finished with a scream of pain.
Jack's tongue left me as my "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" reverberated through his loft, and my cock started pumping blasts I thought must be dry for all the cum I'd already emitted.
Somewhere in the background I heard Jack say, "Babe," and that came through all I was feeling, just as I felt his hand flat on my ass, warm and comforting and concerned. And then I felt the first blast leave my cock, and Jack's hand gripped my ass hard and he yelled, "OH FUCKN A that's fuckn HOT!"
I was fully conscious this time, unlike the last one Jack fucked out of me, which I later found out blacked me out for several minutes, apparently, as that was the time between my climax and Jack's. I felt every pump, both in the excruciating pain of my overworked nuts, every blast as it surged through my cock and, most significantly, Jack's grip on my ass.
I was gripping the counter as if my life depended on it, and Jack was still kneeling behind me, amazed with me . . . and with himself, too. My life, in fact, was changing, my body was becoming – well, honestly, HAD become – his, I just hadn't realized the extent of it yet.
Jack slowly got up and gently turned me around to face him. I winced a bit at the movement – I don't think my ass was that sore after my 25th birthday gang-bang my best friend arranged for me. Jack tentatively moved into me, our eyes locked, and he slowly put his arms around me. When I moved mine to match his embrace, he pulled me tight against him. Our stubbly faces rubbed against each other, and he kissed the base of my neck at my shoulder gently. As I moved my head involuntarily to nuzzle him, I heard him say, quite evenly, "You're incredible, Mads."
"You're the incredible one, Jack – truly," I said, not nearly as gravely as I felt it.
"Hungry?" he asked with a chuckle.
"I need another shower," I answered, and I quickly followed with, "But I need food more! Think you could eat with a stinking slut you've totally dominated for the past several hours?"
Jack's gaze turned intense. "As long as I'm within reach of you, Mads, I'm reasonably sure I can do anything."
Of course, my reflex took over. "Well," I smirked, "I'll make you prove that, AGAIN, just as soon as I get some energy replenished!" and I yanked on his slimy, hanging cock.
Jack jumped and grinned broadly, but then his gaze went intense again, and he said, "I'll hold you to that, stud!"
If you enjoyed yourself reading this and want to send me feedback, it's welcome: madsvand@gmail.com.
And don't forget: the convenience of entertaining this way with a few clicks and scrolls costs money to maintain available. PLEASE donate to nifty.org.